


My Name Is

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Series: The Lieutenant & the Detective [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Affection, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-18 19:56:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: One's name tells of one's genesis and of one'sfamily.





	My Name Is

**Author's Note:**

> **[DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION.]**

The first time it happens, it's six months after the revolution, in a hostage situation, just like before. A woman kidnaps her daughter after weeks of an ugly divorce. She is desperate, risking the loss of her family.

Hank and Connor are called in because they aren't exclusively assigned to android cases anymore after the peaceful revolution led by Markus. Connor, programmed as a negotiator and already having a lot of experiece, is asked to step in. 

"Mommy," the daughter cries, clutching at her mother's arm. He name is Lola, ten years old. "I'm scared."

"Missus Penelope," Connor says, hands raised in the air as he takes one slow step towards the cliffside view of the city. Behind him are multiple Detroit police officers with guns trained on the woman, but they are on standby. Their concern is for Lola who is being used as a shield by her own mother. "Please let Lola go."

The woman, Penelope, moves her knife from her daughter's neck to point it at Connor. She grips Lola's shoulder tightly. "Stop moving!" she demands, tears washing ugly her mascara, and she takes one step back, pulling a crying Lola with her. "I mean it!" 

Connor stops. "I know what you're going through," he continues. "You have been married to Philip Rachman for thirteen years. You are a fashion editor for  _You & Your Wardrobe. _You are a successful and intellegent woman. You don't have to do this."

"Shut up!" Penelope shouts. "This is all _his_ fault! He said he'd always love me, but then he goes around my back and spends the night with his little girlfriends. He lied to me! And now he wants to divorce me? He wants to take my daughter. How could he do this to me?"

"Missus Penelope, I understand this must be painful. This is a trying time for you, but if you give up now, I'll see what I can do for you. You deserve a good life, and your daughter deserves to be loved and cared for. Family is important, so please, think about what you're doing. You're standing at the edge of a cliff, and it's a two hundred and fifty-six feet drop. You, and Lola, won't survive this. So please, lower your knife and come towards me."

Penelope's expression twists more in grieving anger, knowing what he said was right, but she doesn't know what to do. 

"Mommy," Lola says tearfully, "I don't want to die."

Seeing this conflict in choices, Connor begins to walk towards them again, saying, "You can save your daughter's life, Missus Penelope. Please."

And Penelope lets go, dropping the knife as she pushes Lola away from her. Her face breaks down as she herself falls backwards, her feet slipping off the edge. Connor's eyes widens in shock, and he is running, regretful that he couldn't catch Lola before she fall onto the ground but there isn't enough time. 

With a powerful push of his leg, Connor grabs Penelope by her arm, calculating that the momentum of pulling her forward would pull him as well, and mission accomplished, he has taken her place. He sees the Detroit police coming to take over the situation, and the only person running toward him is Hank, who yells out, "Connor!"

One quick movement of a hand to cling to what he could, Connor finds himself dangling, not falling, over the two hundred and fifty-six feet drop. He feels weightless and heavy at the same. He looks down and calculates out badly he will be damaged. CyberLife would be surprised. He hasn't died since before the revolution and been disconnected from his prime directive for just as long. 

He isn't sure when he'd return. 

"Hold on, Connor," he hears Hank's voice say, a strong pair of hands grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him up. "You damn idiot. I swear I'm gonna pu-"

"Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson," Connor says abruptly, smiling smally in gratitude. "I was afraid that I was going to fall."

Hank gives him a long, hard look, but to Connor's relief, he lets it go and instead places a hand on the android's soft synthetic hair and ruffled it. Connor blinks in wonder but makes no moves to reject this display of friendliness. However, he isn't not prepared for what happened next: Hank pulls him closely, the man's slightly taller height giving him a good angle to press a light, fast kiss on Connor's forehead, and Connor is caught completely by surprise, eyes widened as Hank says, "Good work, but be more careful next time, or I swear to God, Connor," and walks away to settle the case. 

Connor is left speechless, reaching with one hand to touch the warm feeling on the skin at the top of his head. He forgets his fear of falling off the cliffside, his systems stablizing. 

He smiles.

.

.

.

Hank is frustrated, but his coffee is feshly brewed, a delicious looking donut on his desk and there hasn't a crime called in all day. There only thing there's to say about today is that it's relatively peaceful, as peaceful as it could for the Detroit Police Department. 

No, Hank is anxious, and his source of fustration is standing in the break room, offering the rest of the boxed donuts to their collegues with a small smile of his face. Connor claims he wanted to work on being office friendly (to which Hank remarked with a snarky answer to start with their stomaches).

And that's the thing. Hank doesn't know why Connor is smiling so much these days. Sure, the kid knows how to mimic this basic human function, but smiling is suppose to help "adapt" to humans. So there really shouldn't be an reason why the kid should always be so happy looking whenever Hank looks over his shoulders to check up on him while on a crime scene.

Being happy in a location where a _crime_ \- usually, in their cases, murder - has been committed draws the bad kind of attention, but that seems to fly over Connor's head because he just smiles a little more when he catches Hank, adding crinkles around his eyes. His LED glows bright blue, running smoothly and almost excitedly. 

Frankly, Hank has no idea what to do with that. He couldn't just tell Connor to stop being so _happy_. Did android really feel the same way humans do? Who is Hank to tell him to stop?

It's obvious it's doing a hell lot for the kid in good ways. Officers have once or twice remarked on Conner's striking features, his handsomeness akin to the old Holloywood men of the mid-20th century, but since he'd been smiling more often - and not ones that were meant to "adapt" - Hank doubles takes whenever he hears someone say the kid got prettier. Despite being an adroid, Conner is starting to catch people's eyes, and not always as a fellow members of the police force. 

"Is something the matter, Lieutenant?" Chris Miller asks, walking by Hank's desk. "You've been staring at Connor really hard."

Hank huffs, looking away. "Have you noticing that Connor's been looking," he starts, pausing for a moment, " _happy_? The damn kid's been smiling over dead bodies, and I think I heard him hum this morning."

"Maybe you're just a really good housemate. I bet he's glad you invited him to stay with you. Adroid rights haven't been set in stone yet, so I doubt he could've leased a place by himself so soon."

"He complains about my drinking and stuffs my fridge with food he can't eat. I haven't had the excuse to call in for take-out in weeks. He's obviously trying to set me on the straight-and-narrow, and I don't like it."

Chris chuckles. "I don't know then, but better you than anyone else. I can't think of anyone else to care about him as much as you do, Lieutenant. I hope I can raise Damain to be as Connor is right now. You treat him like your own, you know, a son in every way but in name."

Hank doesn't reply, covering his mouth with a hand as he glances at one of the drawer at his desk. Chris catches him, and a look of joyful pride grows on his face, teeth showing as he laughs quietly. The officer pats Hank's shoulder and says, "He's going to be the happiest android I'll ever know. Good luck, Lieutenant, not that you'll need it. I'm sure."

Chris walks away, his steps light, and Hank is left sitting at his desk, feeling way too sentimental for his comfort. 

It's become public knowledge that adroids have been taking on last names, another step away from their past as subservients. Many of them, as a part of the revolution, had taken on Jericho, the adroid haven, starting with North, Simon and Josh, three of the four original leadership of the android revolution. Many of their kind followed afterwards, creating a kinship that originated in freedom. It helped the android create a new community as the first Jerichos said that any adroid could take the name as their own and even if they did not, they were still a part of Jericho. When Hank heard about it then, he expected all adroids to follow right after. 

But then, the head and frontman of the revolution,  the android to raise a movement and forced an entire nation onto its knees, came out and called himself Markus Manfred. Articles came out afterwards, going into Markus's past and his relationship with famed neosymbolist artist Carl Manfred. It seems that Carl was not Markus's former owner but a father who saw an adroid like his own. 

Since then, Hank got to thinking. Connor hasn't taken on a last name yet, the kid saying that there's no need to. Connor is an adroid, and androids don't have biological or familial ties. 

 _'Jericho proves you more than wrong about that, Connor,'_ Hank thinks to himself.  _'Kid's gotta stop being so-’_

"Liuetenent," Conner interrupts out of nowhere, standing right in front of Hank's desk, "are you alright? You've been staring at me all afternoon." He looks so human when he's no longer wearing his CyberLife uniform, despite the glowing LED at his forehead. If anything, it looks like a decorative piece. Hank doesn't regret wasting a couple hundred to go shopping with the kid. 

Hank shakes his head, looking at the clock. Coincidentally, it's time to clock out so he stands up as he grabs a small item from his drawer. "I'm fine," he grunts, pocketing his things. "Let's go home, Connor."

At that, Connor lights up, smiling again as his LED spins in a brighter neon blue. "Let's go home," he repeats back, the last word out of his mouth said slowly. 

Hank doesn't comment on it as they head to his car, and the drive to the livable and reasonably priced house he had grieved in for the past three years is quiet, the sound of the radio talking for them.

When the door opens, they're greeted by an extatic Sumo, who jumped at Hank. "Off, Sumo," Hank orders with any bite. "You're so heavy. Go bother Connor."

At the mention of the android's name, Sumo jumps at Connor who opened his arms to catch the large dog. "Hi there, Sumo," he says, closing the door behind him. "Have you been a good boy today?" 

Hank snorts at the question. Connor wasn't lying when he said he liked dogs that day at the station. Sumo licks at Conner's face, enciting a quiet laugh from the android. The St. Benard had taken to Connor well, being that Connor is always willing to make sure that Sumo's bowl and dish are filled. Sometimes, Hank thinks that he had two dogs when he says they should take Sumo for his walk. 

"I'm going to lie down for a while," Hank tells Connor, taking off his jacket. Even without being out in once, a whole day hunched over paperwork doesn't mean his body wouldn't be aching in some way. He wants to lay down on something much softer and comfortable. 

"Alright, Hank," Connor replies, sitting on the floor as he ruffles Sumo's fur. "I'll wake you up in time for the game tonight."

"Fine."

Hank turns left at the hallway and drops himself into bed, the weight of the item in his pocket pressed against his body in reminder. 

.

.

.

His systems have been running on optimal levels, and his fellow androids take note of this when he goes to visit the newly re-established Jericho at the shipyard. The government and CyberLife were willing to give them a much better location, but Jericho's leadership sees the location as the genesis of the movement and that it shouldn't be discarded so easily.

So instead, Jericho has been receiving funds to turn the shipyard into a growing community where most androids live today. They had recently started on apartment complexes to better house the androids living there, giving them a secure place as they walk back into the rest of society with heads held high. 

Connor comes by to Jericho often when he declines to go with Hank to a bar with some of their collegues, taking sole responsibility for walking Sumo for the night. He enjoys Sumo's company, and so have the other androids come to learn, a few or a dozen asking to pet the St. Benard.

"He reminds me of a cat my former owner used to own," Simon says, the five of them - plus Sumo - sitting at the only bar in Jericho. 

Connor had made a close friend of Markus, helping deviate a whole generation of androids, and as a friend of their friend, Simon, Josh and North made it their duty to make sure Connor is welcomed and accompanied in Jericho. On a few nights, they manage all five of them - plus Sumo.

”It's a dog," Josh notes, taking a sip of a drink created solely for an adroid's enjoyment. It's two parts thirim, one part alcohol and a splash of flavor. Androids, with their sensitive sensors and self-individualization, have been developing their own preferred tastes and favorites. The former lecturuer android's cup smells of strawberries. 

"Obviously, Josh," Simon replies, petting Sumo gently, "but it was also big and lazy."

North and Markus laugh, the latter giving Connor an apologetic look. "He doesn't mean any harm," Markus assures. "Sumo is well liked by Jericho."

"And Jericho likes you," North adds lightly. "That brings up an important question, Connor. We've been discussing it for a few days, and we'd like to offer you a place in Jericho and with us. The world has seen what you've done for our kind, but you're beeing forgotten as a side note in the history."

"We'd like to invite you to stay," Josh says with a smile.

"And perhaps take Jericho wherever you go," Simon finishes. 

Connor blinks. Then he shakes his head. "I'm flattered," the forensics android replies. "It would be an honor, and a privilege, to be among you four, but I like where I am now. Lieutenant Anderson has provided me housing, and the city police has allowed me to return as a detective. Jericho will always be where my people are and where I can always find open doors, but my home is not here."

Sumo barks as in agreement. 

Simon breaks into a wide smile, looking over at North and Josh. "You two owe me credits," he states, sounding gleeful. 

North frowns, rolling her eyes, as Josh says, "Lucky guess. Predicting an android's decision is never a hundred precent correct."

Markus laughs at his friends, speaking for the first time since North brought up the offer. "I did tell you two," he says. "Connor has something for him out there that many of us only have here, but one day, Connor, you must tell us who are you."

Connor tilts his head in question. "I am Connor, Model RK800, detective of the Detroit City Police Department," he answers. "I'm here to assist in crime investigations and adapt to humans. I was created to investigate the source of deviancy in androids and stop it from spreading."

North's express falls in displeasure while Simon awkwardly shifts in his seat. Josh says nothing, taking another sip of his drink. 

Only Markus responds, not indifferently, leaning closer to Connor. "I said  _who_ , not what, Connor," he tells the other androids. "You have look into yourself, and that's where you'll find all the answers. From personal experience, it helps to close your eyes."

Conner's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I'm made of biocomponents, to which energy and information are passed on by the thirium 310 that my thirium pump circulates throughout my body." 

"Tell us something we don't know," Josh comments lightly. 

"Please," Simon says, pleading a little. "Markus has been saying this to everyone since the first day Jericho has been rebuilding. A lot don't get it because he has an artistic point of view." 

"I learned from the best," Markus replies with a soft smile. It is one of affection, Connor observes, and he knows it because he sees it in the mirror whenever he passes by the bathroom. 

"Well, if you ever change your mind, Connor," North tells him, "you're always welcomed by Jericho."

Connor thanks her, and he soon excuses himself, saying that it's time to return home or else Sumo would get too comfortable and stay in Jericho for the night. 

Daily life is quiet, as quiet as it could for a detective and a lieutenant working in Detroit, Chicago. Connor keeps having to recalibrate his control over his facial expression while at crime scenes since Hank keeps telling him off for looking chipper where an assult or a murder had occured. (Hank is also still apprehensive about Connor putting evidence to his mouth, but he knows that his tongue would provide a quicker and more statisfactory job than any mulitmillion dollar lab. Conner makes a note to ask Officer Miller why Hank told him to never say that again.)

Connor knows it's not profession, but he couldn't figure out why he kept smiling. He's been smiling a lot, he observes, even without thinking about it. He might need to go back to CyberLife himself and ask them to run a dianogstic check in him and hopefully they can provide him with some answers, but he doesn't find himself wanting to go to CyberLife to find out. When he's clocked off work, he finds that he prefers to stay home. 

He touches his forehead at the thought of having a place to call his home. 

"Connor," Hank says nearly a week after Connor last visited Jericho, "I need to talk to you about something."

"Yes, Hank?" Connor asks, giving Sumo one last belly rub before taking a seat next to Hank on the couch. A basketball game is running in the background, volume set to low.

Hank pulls out a small package from his pocket, handing it to Connor. "You haven't got your official ID yet, have you?" he says, knowing the answer. "Well, there you go."

"Thank you. Captain Folwer must have gone through a lot of trouble to get it to me so soon, seeing that androids are barely allowed in the workforce as individuals."

"He and I both pulled some strings, but that's not what I want to talk to you about. There's the matter of your name too. It's weird for humans to only have a first name, and it might make some humans standoffish towards you. It's better if you had one, for papers and intractions. Fowler thought RK800 would've been fine with you, but I told him nobody would talk to a Detective RK800 and that I had another suggestion. If you don't like it, you can pick whatever hell you want."

Connor looks at Hank for a moment, wondering what his friend could've suggested. It seems that Hank has gotten to know Connor a lot better than Conner could ever predict, so much so that the older man must have a good surprise. 

With a nod from Hank, Connor opens the package, pulling out a sleek, black synthetic wallet booklet. He opens it, seeing the familiar golden badge of the Detroit City Police. He looks to its left and reads the name on his ID:  **Anderson, Connor**.

Connor reads it out loud, and he bursts into joyous laughter, not yet realizing that this voice is wavering. "Are you sure?" he asks, his systems stablizing and destablizing in turn so that he is on a needle head balance. 

Hank sighs, placing an arm over Conner's shoulders. "Look, I'm not the nicest guy," he says, "and I'm not as good as I used to be. The accident fucked me up, and losing Cole . . . I was suicidal and I blamed everybody, but you came along and took whatever last bit of care I had left in me and build it back up. You've saved my life. Anderson is really the only thing I can offer you in repayment for everything you've done for me. Hell, I'm sounding like a gift card. You get the point."

Sumo comes over from his spot by the kitchen table to the couch, planting himself over both Connor and Hank's laps, and he whines. 

Connor mindlessly brushes his fingers over Sumo's head, stilling looking at his ID badge. Then his movement stops, and the android looks to Hank, a translucent liquid coming from his brown eyes. "Thank you, Hank," he says, his teeth showing widely as he spoke. "It's means so much to me. _Thank you_."

Hank doesn't grumble, doesn't show his surprise or moves away. What Hank does is pulls Connor by the back of his head and presses a kiss on Connor's forehead, bringing his other arm for a hug. 

"No, Connor," he says softly, "thank  _you_ , for giving me back a family." 

.

.

.

"So who are you?" Markus asks now as a running joke, and the others laugh. 

"Anderson," Connor answers this time, pulling out his ID badge, "Connor Anderson."

That night, Jericho celebrates. 

**Author's Note:**

> (it ended up being a lot longer than expected but i think it went well. i absolutely adore connor. hes a puppy. and hank is amazing. he deserves to be happy too and im glad he got his son back.)
> 
> If you like my work(s), please check out my Twitter and consider supporting me: [@kappachyun](https://twitter.com/kappachyun?s=09).


End file.
